


Why do angels fall?

by Fafsernir



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Crowley's Fall (Good Omens), Gen, Ineffable Husbands Week 2019, Questions, They/Them Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), genderless Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-09 23:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20518472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fafsernir/pseuds/Fafsernir
Summary: Crowley is falling, falling... It's long. It's painful.





	Why do angels fall?

**Author's Note:**

> For the [Ineffable Husbands Week's](https://ineffablehusbandsweek.tumblr.com/post/187228656901/ineffable-husbands-week-and-nsfw-ineffable) Day 3: fall / plummet / dive

It’s like falling from an exceptionally high skyscraper, except that those don’t exist yet. Only later will Heaven be at the top of one of those, and Hell in the basement. But none of those exist yet. No tall buildings, barely Hell. All they know, is that it’s long. It’s incredibly long. It’s not called falling for nothing, after all. And they keep falling, and falling…

It’s painful, too. Mind-numbing painful, but not enough to not realize that it is painful. Enough to knock them unconscious for a few seconds, they think, but they’re not sure of anything anymore.

They see the light getting further and further away from them. Maybe they see their grace leaving them, but they don’t know exactly when this happens, or if they can actually see it. They don’t know what the pain is linked to, because they have never experienced it.

It hurts. It hurts so much, way more than when they had felt doubt creeping in them, way more than the reactions they had gotten to their questions… Even if falling is, in fact, a reaction to their questions, too. Such an unfair one, they think as they keep falling, and pain gets them again, and they close their eyes.

They open them again. They don’t want to close their eyes. They want to see. They want to be able to understand. It’s always been about understanding. Why are angels ‘good’? What is ‘good’? What is their purpose? What are they creating stars and planets for?

They remember a smile, and eyes. Beautiful eyes. Eyes and smiles from the same angel. They created stars together. They loved creating stars. Bringing light to such a dark space had been so satisfactory and they had felt important. Important to be part of something so wonderful and beautiful. They carefully shaped stars, and they were not alone. They remember gentleness and care.

There is no kindness or love in falling. It is rough, it is painful, it is slow – oh, so slow – and it burns. It burns so greatly. Later, it will be known as Hell Fire, and they will become immune to it, as a demon. But as they fall, as an angel, they still feel the flames creeping inside, burning away a part of them. It spreads all over their material body, but also their ethereal one. Why were they even given material body? Were they simply tests until She created what She really wanted? Why did they even need to be confined in such constraining bodies, as angels?

_ Why? Why me? Why was asking questions too much? Why was that the limit not to cross _ ? And as they question, as they have more and more enquiries, the burning feeling intensifies, until it becomes too much, and they feel the body they have been given cry.

After the fall, comes the crash. It’s not violent in itself, it doesn’t hurt in itself, except that it is, and it does. The fact that they’re not falling anymore means that they are not what they were. They feel hopeless for the first time since their creation.

_ Please, I didn’t mean it. _

And as they beg Her in their mind, it doesn’t sound quite right. It doesn’t sound wrong, either, but there is that feeling that She will not answer anymore. Or rather, She will not  _ listen _ anymore. And they’re losing a parent, even if they can’t put it into words, and it’s a new kind of internal pain.

They roll on their side, in a ball, and grasp handfuls of hair as their body can’t take the pain and tries to sob it away. It doesn’t subside, but slowly it helps them calm down.

After what feels like an eternity, they look at their wings. They’re white, but they look wrong. They’re not the same shade of white as they used to be. They expected them to be burned, because it had felt like they were burning when they were falling, but the wings are still looking okay, are still looking white. They’re maybe a bit dirty, but they don’t know if that’s from the fire or the fall. They choose not to look at them anymore. The wings are not angelic anymore.  _ They  _ are not angelic anymore.

There wasn’t anybody to watch them fall, and there isn’t anybody to welcome them after they fell, they realise as they lay there.

The pain isn’t so horrific anymore, and it is slowly overcome by anger.

Falling doesn’t stop the questions. Maybe it has tried to burn them away, but they can’t stop asking questions. Why do angels fall, if they’re supposed to be so good? Why didn’t they all listen to each other, instead of this nonsense? Why couldn’t they talk? Why is asking questions a form of rebellion? It’s the first rebellion, they have no idea what is considered ‘wrong’ in Her eyes. They couldn’t have known. They don’t think they did anything wrong. They just thought a bit differently. Was it so bad to think differently? What was the point of having more than one angel if they weren’t supposed to think differently?

They are angry, because they fell. They didn’t mean for it to happen. They didn’t want to go against Her, per say, they just wanted to get a better understanding.

With anger, comes self-loathing. They have never felt all those emotions before. They don’t like that they fell, and they don’t like that they asked questions. They don’t like what they are now, or what they are becoming. Maybe they deserve it, in the end? Maybe they weren’t supposed to ask questions. Maybe there was something wrong in their creation, and they’re not normal? Maybe She hadn’t meant to create them like this? Maybe She casted Her mistake down, because She was ashamed of them?

And as they slowly become acquainted with self-doubt, they feel their wings changing. If they’re so different, then why not  _ appear _ different? Why not prove Her that she was right, in casting them out? They could go for red, but that’s too much of a statement. They’ll leave that to other, angrier fallen angels. Red stands out too much. They feel comfortable with black. Yes, comfortable.

They look at their wings as the black colour spreads and hides the damages they have taken. It feels less painful, not seeing what the fall did.

It is but a small consolation in their falling. They still lay there, where they fell. They’re not yet ready to face their new identity. They might already appear different, but they don’t  _ feel _ different, yet. There are still questions, there is still love. They can’t explain it. She might not be listening to them anymore, She might not care about them anymore, but they still do. They still want to ask questions, they still want to talk to Her. Maybe other fallen angels have the same desire. They don’t know, they haven’t met any, yet.

They might be hopeless and broken, but maybe their faith didn’t alter too much during the fall. They are not like their purer siblings, the ones who still sit in Her good Grace, but they still are a product of Her creation. And even if She hadn’t intended them to be this way, surely She has a reason to separate Her creations into two sides, surely She has a reason for their presence on what appears to be the ‘bad’ side. 


End file.
